


Murmurations

by miss_whimsy



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Past Character Death, References to Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_whimsy/pseuds/miss_whimsy
Summary: Timeline 2 was created to save Eliot Waugh. Maybe it can do that in more ways than one.
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Quentin Coldwater & Julia Wicker, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 12
Kudos: 88





	Murmurations

**Author's Note:**

> For [@haleseliot](http://twitter.com/haleseliot). I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope you like it!
> 
> A huge thank you to [skywardsmiles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skywardsmiles) for the beta and cheerleading. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

It’s raining in New York and Eliot huddles under his umbrella as he strides down the street, praying – although he couldn’t exactly say to who – that he will get to his interview without looking like he’d just jumped into a swimming pool fully clothed. It’s a look he knows he _could_ pull off, but there’s a time and place for such things and this definitely isn’t one of them.

He reaches the building in good time but is stopped in the doorway by a girl with long, dark hair, who is speaking into the intercom.

“Ju-li-a W-ick-er,” she says slowly, then catches sight of Eliot, rolls her eyes and gives a half-smile. 

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologise.” Eliot leans in a little closer and presses the same button. “And Eliot Waugh.”

The intercom crackles, shrieks, and dies. Julia huffs a laugh and Eliot grins. “I don’t know whether or not to take this as a sign.”

The door buzzes and clicks open and Julia tugs on the handle. “If it is, I’d take it as a good one. At least we’re in the door.”

“Good point,” Eliot says, shaking off his umbrella before following her inside. “Are you here for the Yale interviews?”

“Yeah, you?”

Eliot nods and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Julia Wicker.”

She shakes it with a smile. “Nice to meet you too, Eliot Waugh.”

They step into the elevator and Julia presses the button for the fourth floor.

“What are you studying?”

“Law. You?”

“Drama.”

“Oh, much more exciting,” Julia laughs.

“I’m sure law is…” he trails off at Julia’s raised eyebrows. “Okay, yeah it is.”

The elevator doors open onto a long corridor with windows all along one side, looking out over a huge manicured lawn and a red brick… well, palace is the word that springs to Eliot’s mind. A palace that definitely hadn’t been outside just a few short moments ago. The torrential downpour has vanished and the sun is shining high and bright in the sky, with not a cloud in sight.

“What the actual fuck?” Julia murmurs and Eliot wholeheartedly agrees.

“Vámonos!”

Eliot and Julia spin away from the window at the shout. At the end of the corridor is a petite brunette, standing with her hands on her hips and murder in her eyes.

“Come on! Hurry. You’ll be late for the exam.”

Feeling increasingly like he’s fallen down a rabbit hole, Eliot races along the corridor with Julia at his side, slowing to a jog when the girl turns on her heel and starts marching down another corridor. “Keep up. We don’t have all day.”

~

At four years old the farm was Eliot’s whole world. His mother loved him. His brothers played with him. His father… well, his father was strict and stern, but Eliot was a good boy, so he didn’t get into trouble too much.

The farm was big, that’s all Eliot knew; the farm was home and it stretched on forever. On weekends, once they’d finished their chores, he would run down to the creek with his brothers and they would play and splash and lie in the sun.

It was on one of those days when he met Q for the first time.

“We’re going to swim to the other side of the lake,” his eldest brother had told him while shoving Eliot back into his t-shirt. “You sit here under this tree, okay?”

“Just sit and wait?” Eliot complained. “That’s not fair.”

“Don’t be a baby,” his brother said and pushed him towards the tree. “Go to sleep for a while. We won’t be long.”

Eliot sat down under the tree and started to rip up handfuls of grass, tears burning his eyes. He would not cry. Only babies cried.

“I don’t think the grass is to blame.”

Eliot jumped and he scrambled backwards away from the man who had appeared, seemingly from thin air. “Who are you?”

The man didn’t move. He was sitting with his legs crossed, hunched slightly forward, picking daisies.

“I’m Q. Nice to meet you, Eliot.”

“Mommy says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Q smiled. Eliot thought he looked kind of like a girl. “Your mommy is correct. You shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

Eliot didn’t know what to do. His brothers were still swimming and it was a long way back to the house on his own.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Eliot, I promise.”

“How do you know my name?”

“One day, you and I are going to be friends,” Q said, “and I thought you might need a friend right now.”

“But you’re a grown-up.”

Q laughed. “Sort of. I don’t feel very grown-up.”

“If I sit down here will you stay over there?”

“Cross my heart,” Q said and crossed his heart with his finger. “Would you like to help me make a daisy chain?”

Eliot fell asleep with the daisy chain on his head and awoke to the sound of his brothers laughing as they splashed their way out of the water. He looked over at Q who was still sitting where he had promised to stay, this time leaning back on his hands and watching the sky.

“What’s this?” his eldest brother asked, yanking the daisy chain from his head. “You’re such a girl.”

“Hey!” Eliot yelled, jumping for it while his brother held it over his head. “Give that back. It’s my crown.”

“Your crown?” His brothers started to laugh and tossed the daisies between themselves until there was nothing left.

“Q made it for me,” Eliot said and the tears were there again but this time they were pure rage.

“Q? Who is Q?”

Eliot pointed at Q who was watching them with sad eyes and a pinched mouth. “Q. My friend.”

His brothers laughed again. “There’s no one there, doofus.”

“Aww, baby Eliot has an imaginary friend.”

“He is there!” Eliot yelled which only made his brothers laugh harder.

“Eliot,” Q said gently while his brothers continued to talk amongst themselves. “I am here, but you’re the only one that can see me.”

“So, you are maginry?”

Q smiled but he still looked sad. “No, I’m not imaginary. It’s just hard to explain.”

Eliot bit his lip. “But you’re my friend?”

“Yes,” Q said. “I’m your friend.

~

Eliot had known he was telekinetic since he was 14, and a surprise entrance exam to a real-life Hogwarts wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him, so he takes the morning’s events in his stride until he’s sitting opposite Dean Fogg, being offered a glass of brandy and a cigarette.

“Is this a trick?” he asks, eyeing both the glass and the cigarette case with suspicion.

Fogg knocks back his own glass of brandy in one swallow. “No, Mr. Waugh. It’s not a trick.”

“Jesus, Henry.”

Eliot glances over his shoulder; Q is leaning against the wall, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. “You know him?”

“Know who?” Fogg asks, looking around the office with a frown.

“Sorry,” Eliot says, taking both the glass and the smoke. “Thank you.”

“How do you know Miss Wicker?”

Of all the questions he’d expected, that certainly wasn’t one of them. “I don’t. We just met outside.”

“I see.” Fogg rubs his face and sighs. “I’m sorry, Eliot.”

“Sorry for wh—”

“Please stay away from her. Focus on your work and have fun. Leave Julia Wicker alone.”

“That’s bullshit,” Q spits, suddenly looming over Fogg. “You can’t do that.”

Fogg’s mouth pinches slightly and his eyes remain fixed on Eliot, but it seems to him as though he’s waiting for Q to finish. Which is ridiculous. No one can see Q except him.

“The Infirmary is out of bounds unless you have injured yourself. Is that clear?”

“You’re a real son of a bitch sometimes.”

Eliot has never seen Q so angry before. He looks glorious.

“Mr Waugh?”

Eliot snaps his attention back to the Dean and nods. “Crystal, sir.”

“Miss Hanson will show you to your room.” He pauses and then gets up to pour himself another drink. “She’s been through a lot and it’s none of your business. Do not mention Alice Quinn to her.”

Eliot nods quickly and then, with a quiet thank you, hurries from the room, immediately slipping the untouched cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

Q trails sullenly behind him as they make their way outside.

“I think it’s time,” Eliot says, blowing out a stream of smoke, “that you and I had a talk.”

~

“Lots of children have imaginary friends,” Eliot heard his mother tell his father one night, while he sat at the top of the stairs. “He’ll grow out of it.”

“He needs to learn that life isn’t a game of make-believe. He needs to grow up.”

“He’s only four. He’ll be at school soon and he’ll make real friends.”

Eliot closed his eyes. He didn’t want any other friends. Q was nice. He listened and he played games and he told the best stories.

“You should be in bed, El,” Q said now, carefully pulling his fingers from their death grip on the railings of the bannister. “Come on, I’ll tell you a story.”

“‘Bout our adventures?” 

“Of course. What would you like?”

“From the ship!”

Q chuckled and tucked Eliot back into bed, then sat in the rocking chair Eliot’s mommy would sit in when she told him stories, and started his tale. 

“Once upon a time, in a magical land called Fillory, there were two Kings, named Eliot and Quentin…”

~

Eliot doesn’t get a chance to speak to Q immediately because Margo descends on him like a beautiful tornado and whisks him away to the Physical Kids’ Cottage.

“There’s a test,” Margo says, leading him straight upstairs to his room, “to distinguish your discipline. Henry said you had to be here though, no matter what.”

“Yeah, that’s not at all suspicious,” Eliot murmurs, looking around his room. “This is nice.”

Margo makes herself comfortable on the bed. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Eliot likes her. He can’t help himself. 

“Talk to her,” Q urges, giving him the tiniest push. Eliot glares at him. “Trust me, okay? She’s like, the love of your life.”

Eliot bites his tongue to stop himself correcting Q and meets Margo’s quizzical gaze.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah,” Eliot nods. “No. Maybe.”

Margo laughs and Eliot feels oddly soothed. “You know what we need right now? Vodka.”

“Yes,” Eliot agrees with a relieved grin. “Vodka sounds wonderful. I could make us cocktails.”

Margo rolls off the bed and slips her hands around his arm. “Eliot, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

It’s not that Eliot forgets about talking to Q either, but after cocktails and lunch and a tour of the campus, Margo insists on throwing a party and Eliot is so excited at the prospect that the next time he thinks about talking to Q it’s two in the morning. Eliot has spent the last hour making out with someone whose face he can’t even remember now, but he’s almost deliriously happy about it. Margo helps him to bed and kisses him very sweetly and tells him in no uncertain terms that they’re best friends now. Eliot can’t remember ever feeling so loved.

Eliot forces his eyes open when he feels Q settle against him and his lovely hands start stroking his hair.

“Go to sleep, El.”

“‘M not tired.”

“Liar.”

Eliot smiles and snuggles closer. “Jealous?”

“Of you kissing random guys? I’ve been watching that for longer than you’ve been alive.”

“You’re strange sometimes.”

Q laughs and Eliot feels a wave of relief. “I know. You tell me enough.”

“Q?”

“Shh. Sleep.”

Eliot reaches for Q’s hand and squeezes it. “You know there’s only you. There’s only ever been you.”

He thinks he feels a brush of lips against his forehead and then he’s asleep. 

~

Eliot grew up and Q didn’t. He never aged. Never changed from one day to the next, not even his clothes. Eliot learned early on not to mention him to his family. He pretended that Q wasn’t there and then he begged forgiveness when they were alone.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for,” Q told him once, while Eliot, all of 10 and confused about life, held onto him tightly. Q was good at hugs.

“I don’t like having to pretend.”

“I know,” Q said, a gentle rumble under Eliot’s ear that calmed him. “But I understand. It’s really okay.”

“Maybe I am crazy,” Eliot whispered. “Dad says I’m, I’m…”

Q held him tighter then and his voice was weird when he spoke. “Your dad is wrong, El. You’re amazing. You’re going to be spectacular.”

Eliot didn’t really understand what other boys saw in girls, why they went out of their way to talk to them or be around them. Not that he had anything against girls but boys were just as nice to be around. Sometimes — most of the time — he liked it better when it was just him and Taylor. 

“Do I have to like girls?” Eliot asked Q one night as he listened to his dad yelling at his mother about him from the safety of his room.

“No,” Q said and squeezed his hand. “No, you can like anyone you want. Girls, boys, neither, both.”

“Dad says it’s wrong to like boys.”

“Well, your dad doesn’t really like anyone.” Q wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on Eliot’s head.

“What are you doing?” Eliot asked, finally feeling able to smile again.

“Enjoying being the tall one while I can.”

“Q?”

“Yes, El?”

“Do you like girls or boys?”

Q took a deep breath which shook when he let it out. “I like both.”

Eliot closed his eyes and pressed his face against Q’s chest. “I think I like boys.”

He felt Q’s smile against the top of his head.

“One day you’re going to meet a boy who likes you too. Just the way you like him.”

“And then what?”

“Hold on.” 

~

Eliot has almost forgotten that he’s supposed to be staying away from Julia when the trials start, and then he doesn’t see how he can manage to stay away from her when they’re partnered together for the last task. 

He doesn’t know how to do this. How to lay himself bare. What secret does he most want to keep? He could tell her about his family, about his father’s constant barrage of criticism and hate, both the verbal and physical kind; how his brothers turned their backs on him when he’d decided who he really wanted to be; how his mother only dared send him a message on his birthday and pretended he didn’t exist the rest of the time. Or he could tell her about Q. That he is a 24-year-old man who still has an imaginary friend, and that that imaginary friend is still the best part of Eliot’s life, that there is nothing he wouldn’t give to have Q be real.

Luckily for him, Julia is braver than he is.

“I didn’t come here to learn magic,” she says, voice shaking slightly. “I knew what this was. Before I got on the elevator, I knew that this is where I’d end up. I had to come here.”

Eliot stares at her, genuinely stunned for a moment. He has so many questions but he stops himself from asking them. This is what this test was all about wasn’t it? Being honest. Julia was telling him something important and he needed to listen.

“It’s okay, Julia, take a breath, you’re doing great.”

She takes a minute to compose herself and nods her thanks. “Last year, my best friend got a letter, just like the one I got, telling him to come for a Yale interview. I saw him the night before, he was nervous but excited. I told him to call me afterwards and tell me how it went.”

“And he never called,” Eliot finishes, unsure of the exact rules of this challenge but Julia clearly needs someone to be there for her right now.

“No, he didn’t. Not for weeks. I was so afraid; so scared that something had happened to him. But then he called me on my birthday and said he wanted to meet me. He told me everything. Magic. Brakebills. He swore me to secrecy. He said that someday I might get in too.”

“That’s…”

“Weird, I know, but before I could ask him any more he was gone and then…”

“Then?”

“I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Shit.” Things start to piece themselves together in Eliot’s head but not in any way that makes sense. 

Julia stares at the rope around her wrists. “I came here to find him. I just want him back. More than anything.”

The knots untie themselves and the rope falls to the ground. Julia looks exhausted.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Eliot promises. “I can help you. I think I’m supposed to help you.”

“I don’t understand.”

The clock starts to chime and Eliot’s ropes are still tied firmly around his wrists. He looks at Julia, panicked, and everything falls out of him in a rush.

“I’m from Indiana,” he says in a rush. “My family is composed of homophobic farmers who at best ignored me, and worst beat me for being different. I’ve spent the last five years trying to discover who I really am and I’m still not completely sure. I’m scared that I’ll never be sure. All I know is that the first time I realised I had powers I killed someone. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know, but that can’t be an excuse, can it? I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be someone who hurts people. I don’t want to be like them.”

The rope drops away as the last chime sounds and Eliot laughs when Julia hugs him.

“You’re going to be okay,” she tells him. “We’re both going to be okay now.”

Eliot thinks it might be true, looks around for Q, desperate to share that little piece of happiness with him.

And then the pain starts.

~

Eliot thought it and it happened. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real because that would mean he did it and that wasn’t possible. It just was not possible.

“Eliot?” Taylor walked over to him, put his hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay? He’d just killed someone, probably — but that couldn’t be true. No, he wasn’t okay. He said so.

“I’ll walk with you if you want.”

It wasn’t really a question so Eliot didn’t answer, just turned and started walking, relieved when Taylor fell into step with him.

He knew Q was right behind them but he couldn’t bear to look, didn’t want to see the disappointment and disgust on his face. Why wasn’t he yelling at Eliot? He was in his head. He knew what Eliot had thought and he knew he’d caused it.

Taylor talked about their English homework and let Eliot walk silently, shooting him occasional worried glances but never pushing him to talk about what had happened. Taylor was a good friend. 

“Do you want to come in?” Taylor asked when they reached his house. Eliot was surprised they’d walked so far.

“I should probably go back. Mom will be coming to pick me up.”

“Okay.” Taylor hesitated and then hugged Eliot quickly before running inside. It was all far too gentle and suddenly Eliot wanted to laugh, horribly and hysterically. 

“Come on,” Q said quietly, tugging on Eliot’s hand. “We have to go.”

It was the first time he’d spoken since it happened. Eliot still couldn’t bring himself to look.

It was hours before Eliot was safely alone in his room. Usually, Q was a comforting presence when he had to spend time with his family, but today Eliot couldn’t be comforted. His parents talked about what a terrible tragedy it was as he pushed food around his plate. For once no one yelled at him to stop playing with his food and his mother gave him a sympathetic look when she took away his half-touched plate. 

He and his brothers were excused and he trailed away from the table with his head down, dreading the thought of being alone in his room with Q for the first time in his life.

“Eliot,” his father stopped him and he turned, raising his head before that earned him another reprimand.

“Yes, sir.”

“Logan was a good boy. Someone to be proud of. You should remember that.”

It occurred to Eliot that his father was, for the first time in his life, trying to comfort him. He would have laughed if the whole thing hadn’t been so horrifically wrong. 

“Thank you, sir.”

His father turned away and Eliot knew he was dismissed. 

Q was waiting for him when he reached his room and Eliot couldn’t even bring himself to worry. He felt sick, his father’s words still ringing in his ears.

“I’m sorry,” Q said.

Eliot’s head jerked up and he stared at Q, confused. “What?”

“I should have been there. I should have been there with you. You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone again.”

Eliot did laugh then for a brief awful moment and then he clamped his hand over his mouth and closed his eyes until he could trust himself to speak. He sank down to the floor with his back against the door and rested his head on his knees.

“I’m the one that killed him.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Q said, crossing the room quickly to sit down beside him. “You didn’t know that would happen.”

“I don’t think that makes it better.”

“Eliot, listen to me. You are not a bad person. You are an amazing person. You have abilities that can be used for an enormous amount of good.”

“What if I hurt someone else?” Eliot asked, staring at his hands which had started to shake. “What if every time I think something bad, it happens?”

“It won’t,” Q promised. “It won’t. You’ll learn to control it. I’ll help you. I’ll be here to help you.”

Q wrapped his arms around him and Eliot pressed his face into his chest and started to cry.

“Shh. I’ve got you, El. I’ve got you. It’s all going to be okay.”

~

Brakebills South is pure hell. Eliot hates every minute of it.

“What exactly is the point of this?” he asks Julia one night, lying stretched out on her bed while she reads, curled up in the chair beside him. 

“Character building?”

“If I’d wanted my character built like this I’d have done what my dad suggested and joined the army.”

Eliot is bored. Julia’s great but she’s someone who is clearly happy to spend her spare time reading textbooks and he… really isn’t. He wishes Margo was there. 

He wishes Q was there. 

He hasn’t seen Q in days and while it isn’t unheard of, Eliot is starting to feel uncomfortable. Q has always been there, for every significant moment of his life, holding him up, holding him together, congratulating or consoling him. 

Eliot misses him.

“Tell me about your friend,” he says, rolling onto his side to face Julia properly and finally has her full attention. 

“He was - is - a giant nerd. Like me, only with fewer social skills. He used to do magic tricks for me when we were kids. He loves magic. Always has.”

“You grew up together?”

“I’ve known him all my life,” she says, looking so lost that Eliot can’t stop himself from reaching for her hand. “And life kind of sucks without him. He wouldn’t believe me if I told him that, but it’s true. I need him.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“You have a friend like that?”

“Since I was four,” Eliot tells her and relaxes a little when she smiles. “He’s just always there. He’s seen me at my best and my worst but he’s always on my side. I miss him.” 

“He sounds like a good friend.”

“He is.”

Julia shifts in her seat and lays her book aside. “I have a question.”

Eliot nods, solemnly. “Hit me.”

“On the roof, right before we…”

“Turned into geese.”

“Right. You said you thought you were supposed to help me. What did you mean by that?”

Eliot rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. “My first day, Dean Fogg asked me how I knew you and then told me I had to stay away from you.”

Julia frowns. “That’s weird. Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell you to stay away from me?”

“Not a word,” Julia’s eyes narrow and she’s staring into the middle distance, as though searching for something. “Highly suspicious.” 

Eliot is relieved that he’s not being completely paranoid. 

“When we get back we can do some research to find your friend.”

Julia nods. “Any ideas about where to start?”

“Well he was in Margo’s year, right? We can start with her.”

~

Getting out of the frozen wilderness and back to Brakebills proper, with its perfectly controlled weather and big comfortable beds and Margo, feels like coming home for the first time in Eliot’s life. He’s never been so happy to see a place as he is to see the Cottage and when Margo wraps her arms around him and hands him a drink, Eliot feels complete.

Almost complete.

Q is still nowhere to be seen and Eliot is starting to worry.

“Is something wrong, baby?” Margo asks a few days later, stroking her hand through his hair while he lies with his head in her lap. “I can hear you thinking.”

He wants to tell her about Q but he can’t find the words. He doesn’t want to risk losing her. What had Q said about that? That they were soulmates? Soulmates probably didn’t extend to revelations of imaginary friends at the grand old age of 24.

“No, I’m good,” he says and then, because changing the subject seems to be the infinitely safer option, asks, “What happened to Alice Quinn?”

Every muscle in Margo’s body tenses and Eliot wants to take it back immediately. Her hand is still in his hair and he feels a slight tug, holds his breath. 

“Where did you hear that name?”

Eliot’s heart is pounding and he doesn’t really know what to say next; Julia would be so much better at this than him. Margo sounds pained and Eliot wants to know why, wants to put his arms around her and protect her so she never has to go through it again. But at the same time, he knows that something hasn’t made sense from his very first day here and he needs to know what the hell is going on. Eliot sits up, slowly and carefully, takes their glasses and sets them on the table. Margo still looks like she’s been punched in the stomach and Eliot wants to reach out to her but the moment feels balanced on a knife-edge.

“Dean Fogg. The first day I was here. He told me to stay away from Julia and then to not mention… Shit, I’m sorry, Margo.”

Margo frowns and her eyes flick around the room, staying away from him while she gets herself under control. Eliot shifts closer, presses against her side. He knows, better than most, when people want comfort without having to ask for it.

Her voice is calm and quiet when she finally speaks. She’s still not looking at him but she hasn’t moved away. 

“He knew I was going to put you and Julia together for the trials. He didn’t say a word to me. Never told me to keep you apart.”

That made no sense and Eliot says so.

Margo laughs and it’s monstrous. 

“Sense? Why would it make sense? Why would any of this make sense?”

“Margo, what...”

“Alice is dead.”

~

College was the best thing that had ever happened to Eliot. He threw away his small-town farmer upbringing and embraced everything the freedom of the city had to offer: Booze, drugs and sex.

Mostly sex.

Q usually was never around when Eliot went to parties. Usually, he disappeared when Eliot was getting ready and reappeared the following day. He never asked about any of the things Eliot got up to without him around. Very occasionally he’d tell him not to drink so much but usually only when Eliot was horribly hungover and clinging to a toilet bowl.

That night hadn't started any differently. Q had vanished before Eliot even had a chance to ask for his opinion of his outfit. Now it was almost dawn and Eliot let himself into his room with only a couple of false starts, humming happily to himself, still high from the drinks and the dancing and the rather spectacular blowjob.

No, what was different was Q sitting on his bed, waiting for him.

“Oh,” Eliot said, grinning widely as he shrugged out of his coat. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Q said and he smiled but it was all wrong. Eliot wanted to make him smile for real.

“Why do you never come out with me?” he asked suddenly because it seemed like a very important question to ask.

Q watched Eliot kick off his shoes and then grabbed his hand, helpfully preventing him from falling over.

“Come on. Lie down.”

Eliot did as he was bid, his hands brushing against Q’s as they both attempted to take off his tie.

“You never come out with me. Don’t you like fun?”

“I like fun just fine,” Q said and stretched out next to Eliot. “But it’s not like I can join in. You need to make friends and have experiences of your own. Without me.”

Q’s head was propped up on his hand and he was looking at Eliot like…

Well. 

Like Eliot imagined he always looked at Q.

“It’s more fun doing things with you though.”

“We will. One day.”

“You’re always so sure of that,” Eliot said. His hand moved seemingly without his permission and cupped Q’s cheek.

“El…”

The truth was, lying like this with Q made him feel higher than any drug ever could. No desperate, delirious fuck could compare to the way Q leaned into Eliot’s hand, eyes fluttering closed. He was breathtaking.

“Q, I — ”

“I know, El.”

“Please,” he begged, not really knowing what he was asking for. “Please, Q, just for a moment.”

An eternity passed. 

Eliot pulled his hand away, closed his eyes, ready to apologise.

And then lips touched his, feather-light, burning him like a brand. Eliot moaned and sank into the kiss. He slid his hand into Q’s hair and held him close. If he could only have this one kiss he was going to make it perfect.

~

Eliot drags himself to bed that night feeling lost and confused. Margo had left before Eliot had found any words that might have convinced her to stay and still hasn’t returned. He has no idea what to do next. All he can hope for now, after six hours and twenty unanswered text messages, is that she'll be there in the morning so he can apologize.

“She’ll forgive you.”

“Jesus,” Eliot jumps and rolls over in bed, coming face to face with Q. “Where the fuck have you been?” He pulls him against his chest without a second thought and closes his eyes when Q’s arms slide around him, holding him just as tight.

“Sorry,” Q says, against his ear. “I had some things to do.”

“What things?” Eliot asks. “You never have things.” 

“I can’t explain.”

“Q…”

“I mean I physically can’t say the words, El. Believe me, I’ve been trying since the first day I met you.”

Eliot holds him tighter, feels his heartbeat quicken in his chest. “You’ve never told me that before.”

“You never asked.”

They lie still for a while, breathing together, holding each other until Eliot can finally relax. He’s selfish, he knows he is. 

“I missed you.”

“I know,” Q breathes. “I missed you too.”

“Did you?”

“I always miss you when I’m not here.”

Eliot refrains from saying that he should just never leave. Somehow he knows Q hears that anyway.

“I fucked up,” Eliot whispers. “Margo’s mad at me.”

“No,” Q says gently. “She’s mad at other people and she’s not the only one. This isn’t your fault.”

“You know her. Margo. And the Dean,” Eliot says, curious. “Did you know Alice Quinn too?”

It takes a moment for Q to respond, but Eliot can see the answer in his eyes.

“Yes, I knew Alice. I know you too, Eliot. I told you. One day we’re going to be friends.”

“I thought you just meant when we got to know each other. I didn’t think you meant… what do you mean?”

Q smiles and kisses Eliot’s forehead. “You’ll get there.” 

Eliot makes a noise of pure frustration and Q laughs. “You’re so dramatic,” he huffs. “Okay, so you know Margo. You know Alice.” He closes his eyes and tries to think. Q’s fingers are rubbing circles against his scalp and honestly, it feels so nice. So calming. So… His eyes snap open and Q grins because he knows. “Holy shit. Julia.”

“That’s right.”

Eliot scrambles from the bed and reaches for his clothes. No way this can wait until morning. 

~

The Knowledge students live over the library, which is the only place Eliot could guess where Julia might be after midnight on a Wednesday. He stalks across the campus, feeling only half-dressed, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves pushed up around his elbows, suspenders loose and slapping against his legs. 

Q walks silently beside him and Eliot is grateful, even though he has a thousand questions to ask. He has no idea what’s happening but it feels important, more important than anything; he just has to get to Julia.

“Do you know which room is hers?” Eliot asks when they get inside, relieved, when Q nods, that he doesn’t just have to start banging on doors to wake the whole building. 

Eliot knocks on the door and waits for any sound from within before he tries again. “Julia? Julia, it’s Eliot. I need to talk to you.”

It’s another minute before the door swings open and Julia blinks blearily up at him, yawning. “Wha?”

“Your friend,” Eliot says, pushing past her into the room. “Your best friend, the one you’re looking for. What’s his name?”

Eliot doesn’t even need her to say it, not really, because Q is there now, watching her with so much love on his face that Eliot aches to see it.

Julia rubs her hands over her face, still trying to wake herself up. “What? Eliot, it’s one in the morning.”

“Please, Julia, it’s important. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. What’s his name?”

She takes a breath, a tiny wrinkle of confusion at the bridge of her nose. “Quentin Coldwater.”

Q smiles. “Hey, Jules.”

“Do you have a picture?”

Julia goes to the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room and picks up a photo album. The first few pages she flips through are baby photos, her with her parents, then as she gets older, of her and a boy. “They’re all of Q.”

Eliot sinks down onto the bed, holding the photo album. 

“It’s him.”

He turns page after page, the boy growing older in every photo, from carefree child to confused teenager to the Q that had met Eliot under a tree twenty-one years ago. 

“It’s who?” Julia asks, sitting down next to Eliot. She touches the last picture in the book. “That was at my birthday party. The last time I saw him.”

Eliot takes a deep breath and meets Q’s eyes for a moment - Quentin’s eyes. Quentin Coldwater. That was a good name. A fairytale name.

“I told you about my best friend. The one that’s always been with me.” Julia nods. “I know this isn’t going to make any sense but this is him. My best friend. Q. No one else can see him. He’s been with me my whole life and he has always looked exactly like this.”

Julia’s hands clench against her thighs. “I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing…”

“You can prove it,” Q says over Julia’s mounting anger. “Tell her she has a scar on her left hip, right at the top of her leg, where she fell out of a tree pretending to be Jane Chatwin.”

“...you can get the hell out!”

“He says you have a scar on top of your left leg, on your hip, where you fell out of a tree pretending to be Jane Chatwin.” Eliot keeps going when Julia freezes, repeating the words that Quentin was saying. “Q was Martin. He said he’d catch you but you both kind of just fell in a heap and a branch went into your leg. You didn’t cry but Q did and he held your hand all the way back to your mom’s house and then all the way to the hospital in the car. You showed it to James the first time you met him and Q knew you were going to end up together because you never showed anyone else, not even Serena Bailey who said you were a… Jesus, Q, how old was she? My mom would have washed out her mouth with soap.”

“Oh my God,” Julia breathes, looking around the room as though Quentin will suddenly appear next to her. “Q? You’re there?”

“He’s there. He says hi.”

“Hi,” she says and the smile that lights her face is electric. “What happened? Are you a ghost?”

“He doesn’t know. He can’t tell us anything.”

Julia looks back at Eliot and drops back down next to him, reaching for his hand.

“Eliot, start at the beginning. Tell me everything.”

It’s four o’clock when Eliot, Julia and Q get back to the Cottage. Julia is determined not to let Quentin get away again and Eliot is honestly glad for the company. His head is spinning and he knows he’s no longer in control of what is happening. There’s no going back now. They have to keep going.

Julia makes them tea and they curl up on the couch, with Quentin between them. It’s weird, their little three-way conversation, but Eliot is happy that he finally gets to talk to Q in front of another person without them thinking he’s insane. It’s nice to see Q so animated — he and Julia have a rare intimacy that Eliot feels honored to be part of.

Margo arrives back at dawn and she doesn’t look remotely surprised to see them waiting for her. Eliot starts to get up but Margo sinks into his arms before he gets too far. She lies with her head on his chest, eyes closed, clinging to him. Eliot rests his cheek against her hair and rubs her back. No one makes a sound for a long time.

“I’m sorry I ran out,” Margo says eventually, pulling away just enough to sit up. “It’s a long and horrible story.”

“Can you tell us, Margo?” Julia asks.

Margo nods a little. Eliot pulls her back against him, tucking her into his side. He can see Q smiling sadly at her from the corner of his eye.

“She’s so brave,” Q says. “I wish I could tell her.”

“We don’t have to do this right now,” Eliot murmurs. “Maybe we should sleep and then…”

“I want to do it now,” Margo says. “I need to do it now or I won’t do it at all.”

“Okay,” Julia says gently. “Take your time. Start at the beginning.”

~

They met on their first day at Brakebills; not so much “instant friends” as four lonely people who recognized the loneliness of others. 

Margo was ready to learn, ready to carve out a name for herself and build a future as whatever the hell she wanted to be. Quentin was overexcited, hopeful that his brain would be soothed to happiness and flying high from the discovery that magic was real. Alice vibrated with nervous energy, the most closed-off but still desperate for affection she would never admit to wanting. Penny was irritated by all of them in one way or another but he drifted back to them every day because they listened and never judged.

Summoning the Beast had been a terrible accident.

Alice kissed Margo in the library garden and then promptly turned into a goose.

Fillory was real and Quentin’s nerdgasm would have been more hilarious if Margo wasn’t silently having one of her own. Penny looked like he didn’t want to be anywhere near this conversation but Quentin was undeterred by his occasional snide comments. Alice watched the whole thing with her hand in Margo’s, contemplative but amused. 

“So what do we do?” she asked when Quentin finished pacing and collapsed onto the coffee table.

“Save Fillory.”

None of them had expected that saving Fillory would be easy, but Margo also hadn’t expected to be left alone in Sunderland’s office, holding Alice’s lifeless body, with Quentin and Penny god knows where. 

Jane Chatwin was unhelpful at the best of times and this wasn’t even close to being in the same universe as the best of times.

“What do you want me to do, Margo?” Jane trotted ahead, a model of indifference. Margo wanted to scratch her eyes out. “Alice is gone. Penny is lost. Quentin is…”

“He’s alive,” Margo interrupted. “Quentin is alive and so am I.”

“But you failed. It’s too late.”

“Then you have to reset the timeline. You did it before. You have to save them. Save Alice.”

Jane stopped walking and rounded on Margo. “Oh, not you too. Whose turn will it be next? Penny begging me to save Julia? Or Kady?”

“Who the hell is Kady?”

“If I reset the timeline, Alice might not even know you. She might not love you. She might hate you.”

Margo stared at Jane incredulously. “At least she’d be alive.”

~

“We tried everything to find Penny. I don’t even know if he’s alive,” Margo continued her story. “Quentin is in the Infirmary but no one’s allowed in there. I’ve tried to see him so many times, but Henry...”

“Quentin is at Brakebills?” 

Eliot shoots Julia a look and tightens his arm around Margo. 

“Look, I know,” Julia says, reaching over to touch Margo’s hand. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry all of this has happened, but I need to find Q.”

“He’s in the Infirmary,” Margo says again. “But like I said, no one can get in there.”

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Eliot asks, brushing the hair out of Margo’s face when she rests her cheek on his shoulder.

“No. He’s in a coma. He won’t wake up.”

Eliot looks across the room at Q, who is now stretched out on the window seat, with his forehead resting against the glass. 

“Maybe that’s because part of him is here.”

Julia follows Eliot’s eye line. “Q, can you tell us anything at all? Anything that might help?”

“What the fuck?” 

“Margo…”

“Is this all a joke to you?”

“Alice used to hate being called sweetie,” Eliot repeats Quentin’s words quickly before Margo can protest again, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. “When she mentioned it you called her nothing but Alice for a week before she sat you down and gave you a list of pet names she didn’t mind. Penny laughed so hard he accidentally travelled half-way across the country and you gave him twice as much shit for it when he got back.”

Margo stares for a moment longer and then throws a dirty look towards the window-seat. 

“As I remember it, you laughed so hard you spilled a glass of red wine down your shirt which is what set Penny off.”

Eliot doesn’t repeat Quentin’s reply.

~

Quentin doesn’t have answers, or rather, Quentin can’t share any answers even if he does have them.

Eliot, Julia and Margo spend the next week in the library looking for anything that might help. Quentin stays with them and Eliot is able to talk to him in public without anyone thinking that might be crazy. Quentin, for his part, is quieter than usual. He sits close to Eliot, practically leaning against him most of the time, but he talks mostly to Julia and Margo using Eliot as his voice. 

“Is something wrong?” Eliot asks him one night when they’re mostly alone in the library. Julia has gone for a coffee run and Margo has long since passed out on top of the book she was reading. “I’m worried about you.”

Q sighs into Eliot’s shoulder. “That’s funny because I’m worried about you.”

“I’m good,” Eliot assures him. “We have a plan. We’re going to wake you up and then we’ll be together properly.”

“Together?”

Eliot keeps his eyes on the page in front of him and wills himself not to blush. 

“In the same dimension.” He can see a corner of Q’s mouth quirk up from the corner of his eye. “We’ll be friends. Like you’ve always said.”

“I meant it,” Quentin says. “Every time. We’re always going to be friends, El, no matter what happens.”

This time Eliot looks at him. “What do you mean, no matter what happens?”

“I just think you should be prepared.” Q shrugs and meets his eyes. “Things have a habit of not working out for us.”

“Bullshit,” Eliot snaps and leans closer, pressing his forehead against Q’s. “This time is different. This time we’re getting a goddamn happy ending.”

Quentin smiles then. His nose brushes against Eliot’s.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

~

Eliot wonders, when Margo is halfway through the window, if they really needed to bother with this at all. They should have tried just walking through the front door at least once. He pushes her foot gently over the sill and then pulls himself up and into the room. Julia is at the door, with her finger to her lips, checking the corridor.

“Okay,” she says, closing the door carefully. “We’re good.”

It takes seconds to do the spell and then the playing cards are spinning around the room, forming a twisting ribbon that speeds towards the door. Margo jumps forward and pulls it open and then all three of them are running down the corridor.

“So much for subtlety,” Eliot mutters when they turn a corner, but then they’re brought up short, outside a room that declares itself Intensive Care, by the playing cards tapping on the frosted glass door and walls, trying to get inside.

Julia tries the handle and jumps back, cradling her hand. “Fuck.”

“Let me try,” Margo says and steps forward, focusing on the handle and lock, fingers flying in tuts Eliot has never seen before, until eventually there’s a crack and the door seems to shiver for a moment before shattering in a controlled heap to the ground.

“You’re terrifying,” Eliot tells her, meeting her proud grin with one of his own.

Julia is already through the door and pulling back the curtain around the bed.

“Q.”

It takes Eliot a moment to realise it’s him who spoke. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he’d even believed all of this was true until he saw Q lying in the bed in front of him; Julia’s and Margo’s assurances could only take him so far. Now, lying there just two feet in front of him, is proof that Eliot’s oldest, kindest, gentlest friend was actually Quentin Coldwater, only a year younger than him, who’d been in a coma for the last fifteen months. 

He looks small and pale, surrounded by machines and Eliot can feel the wards surrounding him, protecting him.

Eliot’s heart is beating twice as fast as normal in his chest.

As they crowd around the bed, Margo has the sense to put up some wards of her own to give them more time to figure this out.

“We have to hurry,” Julia says, brushing her hand gently over Quentin’s head. 

It’s a simple enough spell, just a series of three tuts, repeated twenty-one times. The difficult part, they’d discovered from their research, was finding the missing part of the affected person’s spirit and luckily, they already had that.

“Q?” Eliot calls and Quentin is there the next moment, standing at the foot of the bed. “Are you ready?”

Quentin looks at himself and nods. “Yeah.”

Julia and Eliot begin casting, while Margo stays in the doorway to give them cover, should they need it. Eliot focuses on his hands, on Julia, tries not to think about Q and what might happen next. In all this time he’s never allowed himself to think about it. He feels nothing for the first two rotations and then he hears Q gasp; another four rotations and there’s a light hovering between himself and Julia, stretching out towards the two parts of Quentin.

Slowly, the light surrounds them, engulfs them, and the stronger the light becomes, the harder it is to keep going but Eliot knows there’s no way either him or Julia are giving up before this is done. At rotation eighteen, Quentin’s body is suspended over the bed fused with that of his spirit. Eliot can feel the sweat pouring from him and he’s desperate to wipe it away from his eyes. 

“Just a little bit more, El.”

He’s not sure who it is calling to him. Maybe it’s Julia. Maybe it’s Margo. 

Maybe it’s even Quentin. 

Whoever it is, they help him refocus and then, before he knows it, it’s over.

Julia leans over Quentin, her breathing harsh and labored. Eliot falls forward slightly, catching himself on the edge of the bed.

“Q,” Julia is saying, over and over. “Q, can you hear me? Please wake up, please.”

Margo joins Eliot and slides her arm around his waist and he’s grateful because he can barely stand but he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from Quentin’s face.

It takes longer than Eliot thought it would, but eventually, Q gives a little shiver, then a sigh, then his beautiful, brown eyes blink open and Eliot has never felt happier in his entire life.

“Jules?”

Julia starts to cry but the smile on her face is wide and happy and she hugs Quentin tight, pressing kisses to his head and cheeks.

“That’s nice,” Q croaks out in reply.

“You stupid, self-sacrificing little dipshit,” Margo growls. “If you ever do anything like that again, Coldwater, I will kick your ass so hard—”

“I love you too, Margo.”

Quentin’s voice sounds scratchy and hoarse, and Eliot hurries to get him a glass of water, somehow managing to control his shaking hands enough not to spill it everywhere.

“Here you go.”

Quentin looks up at him as he takes the glass, staring big and wide into Eliot’s eyes.

“Hi, Q.”

He gulps down the entire glass and hands it back to Eliot.

“Hi,” he says and his eyes flick to Julia and then Margo and then back to Eliot. “Who are you?”

~

There was barely time for Eliot’s heart to break before there were security guards, followed closely by Dean Fogg and Professor Lipson. Eliot and Margo were ushered away by the guards to wait in the Dean’s office, while Julia was allowed to stay with Quentin as Lipson checked him over.

Eliot held tightly to Margo’s hand as they walked across the campus. Some recess of his brain was whispering to him that he was probably going to get expelled but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

His oldest friend, his best friend, didn’t even know who he was. 

Margo kept shooting him worried glances and he squeezed her hand to try and reassure her that he was okay. 

He really wasn’t okay. 

Luckily, Fogg’s office had a nice bottle of Scotch sitting out that Eliot had no qualms about helping himself to. He poured himself a generous amount, downed it, and then refilled his glass and another one for Margo.

“He just needs some time to adjust,” Margo said. “He just woke up after fifteen months. He’s bound to be confused.”

“Or maybe, now he’s whole again, he has no reason to remember whatever weird time-travelling inter-dimensional bullshit his spirit was doing while his body and mind were here.”

“Well, aren’t you Mr. Glass is Half Empty.”

“Margo…”

“No, you listen to me,” Margo interrupted, leaning forward in her seat. “I knew Quentin. Not a whole lifetime’s worth of memories but enough to know that he’s one of the best people there is. He’s not perfect. He’s not always easy to get along with, but he is kind and brave and loyal and he saved me. So I know that if a part of him found you and told you you were meant to be together, then he had to have a reason for that. I would trust him with my life. You can trust him with your heart.”

Eliot didn’t get expelled.

Which wasn’t to say that Dean Fogg didn’t spend a good forty minutes yelling at him and Margo about their recklessness, stupidity and arrogance, but once that was over he poured all of them another drink and proceeded to tell him what he’d just finished telling Julia. 

This had been the second timeline they’d lived through and Jane Chatwin had already reset it, just like Margo asked, to begin a third. This one would continue on its present course…

“Until we all die,” Fogg finished. “However and whenever that may be.”

Margo scowled but didn’t say anything; her hand tightened around Eliot’s.

“I don’t understand,” Eliot said. “We were here before? Me and Julia. We should have been here this time. We could have helped.”

“You helped before, Mr Waugh, and you’ll help again, no doubt. Jane’s plan was to tweak things every time. With any luck, the third time will be a charm.”

“And what’s her endgame?” Margo sounds quietly furious. Eliot doesn’t blame her. “What’s a good outcome for her?”

“To save Fillory from The Beast.” Dean Fogg chuckles a little into his glass and then finishes his drink. “And to save everything else from him too.”

“Not an insubstantial goal,” Eliot said absently.

“Count yourselves lucky that most of you are alive. Last time I was the only one left standing.”

Margo had stormed out of the room at that and Eliot had chased after her, slightly unnerved that she could outrun him in those heels.

“Margo, wait!”

“Count ourselves lucky!” she screamed, causing most of the students in the vicinity to scatter. “Lucky. Lucky! I’m so fucking... Lucky!”

“Margo —”

“She’s dead, Eliot. Alice is dead. Penny is dead. Quentin is fucked up and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now? What am I supposed to do?”

Eliot stepped up close, pulling her into his arms. “I don’t know, Bambi. I don’t know what we do now.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and gave her a smile he hoped she believed more than he did. “But whatever we do, we can do it together.”

~

It was a month before Quentin got out of the Infirmary and Eliot didn’t go back to visit in the meantime, though Julia told him repeatedly that he should. 

“Does he remember me?” Eliot asked every time and with each "no" he received in response, a little piece of the hope he’d been clinging onto died.

He tried to distract himself with drinks, with harmless flirtation, with Margo, even very occasionally with schoolwork, but he couldn’t deny that he missed having Q there like a physical ache. 

The door to the Cottage opens slowly and Eliot glances up from his book to see Julia’s head bob into view and then, before he can even brace himself, Quentin is there. 

He’s moving slowly, one arm wrapped around Julia’s waist and he’s leaning heavily on a cane as he shuffles forward.

“Are you supposed to be out of bed?” Margo asks, flying from Eliot’s side to Q’s in a moment. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Margo,” Quentin says dryly, but he’s amused, Eliot can tell. Relieved that Margo is treating him like she always used to.

“Q, you know I love your pretty face,” Margo says, guiding him very carefully over to the sofa, where Eliot is still sitting, frozen in place. “But you almost died and you look exhausted and if Lipson told you to leave before you were ready I’m going to cut that bitch.”

“Jesus,” Q sighs, sinking gratefully into the cushions. “It’s nothing like that. I just couldn’t stand being in there a moment longer. Julia had to promise I wouldn’t be left alone before she’d even agree.”

Margo looks slightly mollified. “Alright. Good. Can I get you anything? Tea? Soup?”

“Just sit with me,” Q says. “I missed you.”

Eliot wants to curl up around Q and hold him tight against his chest. He wants to run away so he doesn’t have to hear him say…

“Eliot?”

Quentin is looking at him and Eliot has no idea what to do or what to say because how is someone supposed to act when their best friend forgot that they even knew you?

“Quentin,” Eliot forces out along with a probably terrifying smile. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” Q says and his smile is gentle and genuine. “Julia told me what you did for me.”

Eliot glares at Julia but she shrugs her shoulders and leans over to whisper to Margo.

“It was nothing you wouldn’t have done for me.”

“Lunch,” Margo declares, interrupting Quentin before he can answer. “Julia and I are going to make lunch.” She winks at Eliot as they make their escape and Eliot briefing considers tripping both of them with his brain. 

“I wouldn’t,” Q says as though reading his thoughts. “Those two working together to get back at you…”

Eliot shudders. “Good point.”

“Anyway,” Quentin continues. “It’s my fault. I told Julia I need to talk to you alone.”

“Oh.”

Quentin takes a deep breath. Then another. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Eliot feels his whole face scrunch up in confusion. “For what?”

“I don’t remember…”

“That’s not your fault,” Eliot assures him. “Q, it’s not. I’m not angry or…”

“You didn’t come back to see me,” Q says quickly. “I told Julia to get you to come back so we could talk. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah, well,” Eliot looks away, embarrassed. “No one ever said I was brave.”

He can still feel Quentin looking at him and he has absolutely no idea what to do or say to fix this. He doesn’t even know if it can be fixed.

“Hey,” Quentin says and Eliot’s eyes are dragged back to his face by a force too strong to resist. “Julia said we were friends. We were friends weren’t we?”

Eliot nods, helplessly. “Yes. We were best friends.”

And Q beams at him, bright and wide, and Eliot wants to touch him so much it hurts.

“Well, then,” he says and holds out his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Quentin Coldwater and I’d really like it if we could be friends.”

So, Eliot might not get back what he had with Q. So he might not get to fall asleep with him every night, might not have that bone-deep understanding and care that comes from growing up with someone and sharing the worst parts of yourself. He might never get to take that tiny spark between them and grow it into something beautiful and all-encompassing. But he could still have Quentin as his friend. Quentin clearly wanted that even if Eliot wasn’t sure why. They could be friends, the way Q had always promised him.

“Nice to meet you too, Quentin Coldwater,” he says and takes Quentin’s hand. “I’m Eliot Waugh and we’re already friends.”

It happens so quickly that Eliot barely understands it. 

One minute they’re holding hands and smiling at each other and the next Quentin is doubled over in pain, screaming.

Eliot’s hands flutter over him, unsure what to do and where to touch. Julia and Margo are at his side in an instant, asking what happened, what’s wrong, but Eliot doesn’t know. He just knows that Q is still screaming and he needs to make it stop.

Margo clears the room of curious students, while Julia and Eliot manage to move Quentin around on the sofa until his head is in Julia’s lap, where she can place her hands against his temples and…

Q gives a strangled sigh and then stops screaming, relaxing against Julia. She strokes his hair and drags her eyes up to Eliot’s.”

“What happened?”

Eliot is sitting on the floor at Quentin’s side, gripping his hands tight. “I don’t know. We shook hands and then he just collapsed.”

Margo perches on the table and rubs Eliot’s back. “How did you stop it?”

“I don’t know,” Julia says. “I just wanted him to be okay. I didn’t do anything really.”

“Should we get Lipson?”

“No.”

Julia inhales sharply and they realise, all at the same moment, that Quentin is awake.

“No,” he says again. “I’m good. Just - ow. That fucking hurt.”

“Q, are you okay?”

Quentin smiles a little, even as he winces, tugs one hand free of Eliot’s and places it on his cheek, brushing lightly with his thumb. “I’m really good,” he says, and then laughs, surprising them all again.

Eliot covers Quentin’s hand with his own and can’t stop himself from leaning into it, from pressing a kiss to his wrist. “Q?”

“I remember.”

~

Quentin tells them stories sometimes, of lives they lived, of people they loved. 

He tells Julia that she is always the strongest person he’s ever met and that he’s always loved her, always would, even when neither of them made it easy. He tells her about a girl named Kady that he thinks they should find because she’s important to them. He tells her that she fell in love and even had a baby once. He tells her she became a Goddess and then he tells her he could never tell the difference.

He tells Margo that she was the best High King Fillory ever had and that he was always so proud to be her friend whenever she graced him with her friendship. He tells her there’s a world out there where Margo and Alice saved each other and loved each other fiercely until they were old and grey. He tells her she fell in love with a werewolf and laughs when it makes her spit wine in his face. They should go to Fillory, he tells her. She should save it again, her and Fen.

He tells Eliot that there isn’t a timeline that exists where he and Eliot aren’t friends. That Eliot was the first person he saw the first time he learned magic is real, and every time still to come. He tells Eliot that he is his anchor; that there’s no one he trusts more in the world, and that even the times where Eliot broke his heart or the ones where he broke Eliot’s, neither of them could bear to give the other up. He tells Eliot about a mosaic in the forest in Fillory which was their home for fifty years. He tells him about Teddy and Arielle and the beauty of all life.

He tells Eliot he loves him.

Eliot always says it back.


End file.
